Nightmares (Enorace fluff)
by InkyQuill553
Summary: When Horace's nightmares begin to scare Olive and Claire, Enoch is forced to change rooms with them for the week. And so begins the origins of Enorace. Flufffff (because it's cute). (Set post-Abe, pre-Jacob)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! I hope you enjoy this fanfiction, and please review :)**

CHAPTER ONE

Enoch lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. It was well past midnight and he was exhausted, but as much as he tried to force sleep, his insomnia, bane of his bloody existence and the cause of the dark circles ever-present under his eyes, kept him awake. He scowled, abandoning another night's futile efforts, and sat up, pulling some clay from the drawer beside him and starting to model it into the shape of a homunculus. He'd almost completed it when there was a commotion from outside. Enoch paused to listen.

High-pitched, girlish crying, sounding like that of Olive or Claire.

A low, comforting voice. Bronwyn?

Then came the unmistakable voice of Miss Peregrine. Enoch tilted his head, but still couldn't make out what she was saying. Normally he wouldn't care about the petty problems of Miss Peregrine's youngest peculiars, but tonight he welcomed the distraction and besides, his clay was far too hard for a decent homunculus.

Opening the door a crack, Enoch peered out into the hall.

"I understand your distress Claire my dear, but you can hardly blame Mr Somnusson for his peculiarity." Miss Peregrine said to the young girl.

"But it's scuh-scary!" She cried, and Olive nodded gravely next to her.

"I assure you it's far worse for me…" Came a mumbled voice, and Enoch realised Horace was standing behind Miss Peregrine uncomfortably. They faced a concerned Bronwyn and distraught Olive and Claire. Claire continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"-All this scr-screaming a-and cruh-crying." She whined.

"Every night!" Chimed in Olive. Then she too was crying. "I don't want to hear about death a-and the world ending anymore!" She wailed, and Bronwyn gave her a hug. Horace's shoulders slumped in shame.

"Sorry…" He said to the ground. Miss Peregrine tutted discontentedly.

"There's absolutely no reason to apologise, Horace. This problem has a quick fix. Go and get your blankets girls- you can sleep in Miss Bruntley's room tonight. Quickly now! So we can all get as much sleep as we can with what's left of the night." They hurried off, Bronwyn in tow.

"You too Mr Somnusson." Miss Peregrine said to Horace.

"Yes, Miss Perigrine." He said dejectedly as she walked back down the hall. He stood there for a moment, looking absolutely exhausted, then seemed to sense someone watching him. Looking up, he met Enoch's eyes and frowned. He shot Enoch a look like "What are you looking at?" Enoch rolled his eyes before shutting his door with a bang.

…

The next morning, as everyone tucked into their breakfast, Miss Peregrine cleared her throat. The peculiars fell silent.

"Now children, as of last night it has come to my attention that we may need to make some room changes." There were instant groans and cries of injustice.

"That's absurd!" Cried Millard indignantly. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to set up all the maps and diagrams on my walls? The Map of Days won't analyse itself you know!"

"Well I'm certainly not moving." Piped up Hugh. "My bees need to be close to Fiona's room so they have plants to pollinate. If you have me move away it will be much too far to fly!"

Fiona nodded her agreement.

"Oh please." Enoch scoffed. "You just want to be next to Fiona so you can sneak off and snog her without the Bird waking up." Hugh and Fiona flushed.

"You'd better hold your tongue before I sting it off." Hugh growled.

Miss Peregrine stood and clapped her hands before a full-blown fight could ensue.

"Please, there's no need for hysterics." She said. "I just need one of you to swap rooms with Olive and Claire for a week or so. Horace has been having a bout of bad nightmares lately and hearing him through the wall is beginning to upset them."

"Well it certainly won't be me, so someone else will have to volunteer." Declared Millard.

"What about Emma?" Enoch said. "I'm sure Horace would be happy to tell her about her complete lack of a future with Abe."

Emma's eyes flashed with anger.

"You little- come here so I can burn your face off!" She cried. Enoch just snorted with laughter.

"Why don't we just make Enoch swap rooms?" Hugh said.

"That's an excellent idea!" Emma said, shooting Enoch a smug smirk.

"All in favour of Enoch changing rooms?" Millard asked.

"Hey, hang on-" Enoch frowned, head swivelling between the hands that were raising around him.

"Aaaand that's a unanimous vote for Enoch to change rooms." Millard said, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

"What? No way am I moving next to-" But it was too late. Hugh slapped him on the back.

"Thanks for volunteering to change, Enoch." He smirked. "Very chivalrous."

"B-but-" Enoch turned to Miss Peregrine, but she too was struggling to hide a grin. Enoch scowled.

"Fine!" He spat, and stormed out of the room.

…

A few hours later, his sheets and pillow were under one arm, and all the belongings he'd need in his new room were packed up in a box. He passed Claire and Olive in the hall, carrying boxes of their own.

"If you so much as touch my things…" He warned.

"Oh, leave them alone Enoch." Bronwyn sighed, guiding the girls away from him.

Enoch dumped his stuff on his new bed. It was tiny and bright yellow, meant for a little girl. Olive's. Claire's bed had already been carried into Enoch's room by Bronwyn earlier that day.

Enoch looked around him. Pastel walls with frilly lace curtains. Piles of porcelain dolls and stuffed toys everywhere. He wrinkled his nose.

"The decor's a bit lacking, isn't it?" A voice spoke across the room.

Enoch looked up to see Horace leaning against the doorframe. "I pleaded with them to go for something more tasteful, but no- pastel it is." He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably and suddenly looking embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind having to move… sorry if I wake you up."

Enoch smirked.

"Just as long as you don't cruh-cry and sc-scare me." Enoch mocked in a high-pitched Claire impression. Horace laughed, then frowned, suddenly realising that Enoch was probably making a dig at him as much as he was Claire. He went worrying off to his room, while Enoch started to unpack his things.

…

Enoch sat for hours in his new room, making homunculi, grumbling to himself. His old room was at the very end of the hall, but Olive and Claire's was second from the front, right by the stairs, meaning that everyone had to walk past his door to get to their own rooms. Today it seemed that every man and his dog had gone up the stairs, and if Enoch heard one more creaking footstep or door open and close, he was going to murder someone. Not to mention that he'd run out of chicken's hearts to put into his homunculi, so now he'd have to go all the way down to the basement to get some more. Throwing his door open, he marched downstairs. Bronwyn stood at the bottom, talking in hushed tones to what appeared to be thin air. Millard. Enoch stopped just out of sight.

"-says it's disgusting. At least Claire has her own bed, but Olive has to sleep in Enoch's, and he's left bits of clay and gunk and blood everywhere. You can't open drawers without finding pickled things, or scalpels or…." She noticed Enoch listening and shut her mouth.

"Hey there, Enoch." Said Millard awkwardly. "What are you doing?" Enoch grumbled a retort under his breath, before shoving past them. He heard their conversation fade out behind him.

"Well, if you're worried maybe we should work something else out?" Millard said to her gently. Then he laughed. "I mean, this is Enoch's room, remember? It's destined to be filthy."

Enoch stormed out the front doors onto the grass, forgetting all about going to the basement.

"This is Enoch's room. It's destined to be filthy." He mocked, scowling. "Yeah, it's my room so I'll have it how I want, you pathetic sod!" He yelled back at the house, even though he knew Millard couldn't hear him.

Enoch threw himself down under a tree, watching Emma throw fireballs into the air to the delight of Olive and Claire, and Hugh and Fiona sitting and talking quietly in the long grass, Hugh's bees flying around them lazily. The only other person who seemed to be alone was Horace, who sat on the front porch, staring into space. He looked sad, Enoch decided.

Good, Enoch thought. Someone as miserable as me.

Then he got out some clay, and started the monotonous task of making yet another homunculus.

…

Enoch lay in his new, tiny bed. He thought he would struggle to sleep even more in Olive and Claire's room- his feet were sticking over the end of the blooming bed, for Bird's sake! But to his surprise, it seemed to be just the change of scenery he needed and he soon fell asleep.

Enoch felt like he'd only just closed his eyes when he was startled awake by a scream. Eyes darting open, he flailed upwards, heart racing and eyes wide as his head whipped around the room in panic. Then the scream came again, followed by sobs, and Enoch's brain registered what was going on.

"Oh great." He muttered. He rolled over and shoved his pillow over his head to muffle the sound of Horace's panicked cries. It did nothing. Enoch's eyes snapped open again and he scowled. He shut the door and tried once again to ignore Horace, but it was impossible. His sobs came through the wall and seemed to echo around the room.

"Oh, for Bird's sake!" Enoch leaped up and marched out the door, into Horace's room.

The quicker you shut him up, the sooner you can go back to bed. He told himself.

Horace lay writhing in a tangle of blankets, mumbling unintelligibly. Enoch stood in the doorway, not sure what to do. Then Horace screamed again and Enoch winced. He shook Horace's shoulders roughly.

"Horace! Wake up. Hello?" He waved a hand in front of Horace's face. "Wake up!"

Horace continued to mumble in his sleep, voice shaking with fear, and when Enoch shook him harder, he started to scream again.

"Oh for God's sake." Enoch muttered. Great. Just what he needed.

Enoch glanced warily at the doorway to see if anyone had woken up, but no lights were on.

"Why can't bloody Miss Peregrine deal with this?" He scowled down at the mumbling Horace. "I'm not your mother you know."

But then he shook Horace again and, finally, he gasped and sat up. Horace's face was pale and scared, and when he saw Enoch standing uncomfortably next to him, his face crumpled, fighting tears. He sniffed and rubbed his face roughly with his hands, shaking a little. Enoch just stood watching him stupidly, feeling embarrassed. He found himself looking around the room, at the walls, at the lamp, anywhere but the crying boy in front of him.

"So what do you want me to do?" Enoch muttered uncomfortably.

"Wha-what?"

"What am I meant to do now?" Enoch's voice rose angrily. "Am I meant to get Miss Peregrine? Do you need to write your prophecies down? What usually happens?"

Horace laughed and wiped his eyes.

"Nothing." He said, shrugging. "It's fine thanks Enoch. I'm fine now. Sorry for waking you up."

Enoch wouldn't look at him.

"Whatever."

He marched out the door.

…

The next morning, Enoch trudged downstairs, eyelids heavy.

"Now I'm going to be exhausted thanks to that idiot and his nightmares." He muttered to himself, flopping down at the table.

"Looks like Sir Kill-joy has entered the room." Emma said. "You look mad, Enoch."

Millard scoffed.

"Doesn't he always?"

"That's enough, you two." Miss Peregrine cut in before Enoch could retaliate and they fell silent, turning instead to their breakfast.

"So." Hugh smirked. "How did you sleep Enoch?" The other peculiars all grinned and turned to him, waiting for his rant.

"How do you bloody well think?" Enoch growled. He noticed Horace sink down in his chair across the table from him. Enoch could see Horace waiting for him to tell everyone just how annoying and pathetic he'd been.

Horace was surprised, however, when Enoch acted like nothing with nightmares had ever happened.

"Olive's bed is disgusting and tiny, the whole room stinks like weird hairspray and I swear to God if I find one more tiny hairbrush, someone's getting murdered." Enoch snapped, and there were a few sniggers. Horace shot him a grateful look, but Enoch just rolled his eyes.

Did Horace seriously think Enoch had avoided the topic for him? He'd be damned if he admitted to everyone that he'd helped the other boy with his stupid nightmares.

"Idiot." He muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It seriously means so much to me.**

**I'm glad people like this, because I honestly didnt think anyone would haha.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

CHAPTER TWO

Once the peculiars had finished tidying up from breakfast- Miss Peregrine had forced Enoch to help dry the dishes, which he was _not_ pleased about- everyone dispersed outside. Enoch, however, decided to go down to the basement. He trudged down the stairs to the cold, filthy room and began pulling out some jars of hearts and a ball of clay, and formed them into a few homunculi. The clay was cold and cracked, so they came out a little disfigured. He watched them stumbling stiffly on legs that were too cold to bend, and frowned. Not his best work, to say the least.

"Alright, soldiers- march!" He commanded. They turned to look at him, not moving, and Enoch swore if they had eyes they'd be rolling them.

"I said march, you impertinent fools!" He commanded again, scowling now.

The homunculi ignored him and went back to milling around aimlessly. One fell over and its leg fell off. Enoch face palmed and snapped off their heads.

"What a waste of perfectly good hearts." He muttered, and left them writhing on the workbench as he stormed back up the stairs and to his new bedroom.

Enoch couldn't wait to flop onto the bed and try to get some sleep, but when he arrived he was horrified to find Bronwyn and Claire already in there.

"What the hell are you doing?" He scowled.

"Claire left her necklace in here. We're just trying to find it, if that's okay." Bronwyn said.

"It's absolutely not okay! You can't just come in here whenever you like." Enoch snapped. "So why don't you just get out of my room?"

Bronwyn frowned.

"Umm, it's not your room, Enoch. It's still Olive and Claire's- you're just here temporarily. So actually we _can_ come in here whenever we like."

Enoch's mouth fell open in outrage.

"Well… well how about I go into _my_ real room whenever I like then? How about I go in there right now?"

He gave them a smug look, but Bronwyn just shrugged.

"Sure. Go ahead." She said.

"Can you say hi to Olive for me when you go?" Claire asked.

Enoch spluttered- that was not the reaction he'd been hoping for.

He sneered at them one last time and stormed out. This was turning out to be a terrible day.

…

Enoch spent the rest of the day being annoyed by what he swore was every single person in the house. He'd walked straight into Millard coming down the stairs, accidentally stood on one of Fiona's plants, had been chased by an angry swarm of bees (those two events may or may not have been related) and tripped over _literally nothing_ and fallen flat on his face in front of a laughing Emma.

By the time dinner rolled around, the only person who hadn't pissed him of was, surprisingly, Horace. Enoch glanced at him across the table and rolled his eyes when the boy caught him looking. For Horace to do something stupid and annoying right now would just about be the icing on the cake for his terrible day. Enoch stabbed at his food as the others chattered senselessly. He sighed, wanting nothing more than to be like Olive and Claire, who Miss Peregrine was dismissing early for bed. Instead, he was stuck here making small talk.

The girls, however, seemed less than happy about the arrangements.

"But I don't want to go to bed!" Claire wailed, and Olive nodded earnestly.

"I want to stay up with everyone else for once." She pouted.

"Now then, there's no need for hysterics." Miss Peregrine frowned.

Bronwyn nodded.

"Come on girls, wouldn't you rather have a nice sleep than stay up and be all tired for tomorrow?"

"But we _can't_ have a nice sleep, because we're stuck in _his_ room." Olive pointed an accusatory finger at Enoch. Enoch threw his fork down and glared at her as she continued. "His room is awful and ugly and filthy and-"

Enoch was about to take her head off when he heard Horace scoff.

"Well it doesn't sound too much different from your bedroom then." He shrugged with a smirk. "If I'm being perfectly honest."

Olive's mouth fell open and Enoch burst out laughing.

"Mr Somnusson!" Miss Peregrine scolded. Then she pursed her lips. "I think you can have an early night too." She decided.

Horace sighed, then stood and disappeared down the hall without a word, glancing at Enoch as he passed.

Enoch grinned. Maybe Horace wasn't so bad after all.

…

Enoch climbed into Olive's tiny yellow bed, ready to be stuck awake for the rest of the night. But surprisingly, found he was able to sleep after only an hour of trying. Two nights in a row of little-to-no insomnia? That had to be some kind of record.

He'd only been asleep for a couple of hours when, just like the night before, he was startled awake. Horace was crying out in fear, and it reverberated through the thin wall.

Enoch groaned and flopped back on his pillow.

_I'm not going._ He told himself.

_He can deal with it himself. I'm not going._

But then Horace started to cry and Enoch sighed and scowled at the ceiling. He dragged himself up and begrudgingly slouched into Horace's room.

"Wake up." Enoch scowled the moment he got to the doorway. Horace was frozen in fright, holding his hands out in front of his face and mumbling.

Enoch didn't move. He was not interested in a rehash of last night. In fact, he'd like nothing more than for Horace to just wake up right now so that he could go back to bed.

"Would you wake up already? I'm tired." He spat. When nothing happened, Enoch marched over to Horace and shook him roughly.

"Horace! Wake up." He shook him again. "Wake up!"

Enoch stood awkwardly, glancing at the door. He hated when people cried- it made him feel weirdly uncomfortable. Stiffly, he sat down on the bed next to the mumbling and whimpering Horace, body tense, ready to stand up if anyone walked past. The last thing he needed was some stupid joke from Hugh or Emma. Scowling, he shook Horace harder.

"Wake. Up. Wake up! Horace!" Horace gasped and his eyes shot open. He was shaking, eyes darting wildly around the room as if what he had seen in his nightmare was still around him. Finally his eyes focussed on Enoch sitting uncomfortably in front of him. Horace's lower lip quivered, and then he suddenly collapsed against Enoch, sobbing into the front of his shirt. Enoch's body went rigid and he scowled as his face flushed.

"Wha-what? Get off! What in Bird's name are you-" He was about to shove Horace off, but the sight of him whimpering and shaking was so pathetic Enoch couldn't help but feel bad for him. Robotically, Enoch lifted his arms and patted Horace on the back.

Horace finally calmed down, pulling away and wiping his eyes.

"S-sorry about that." He sniffed weakly, looking uncomfortable.

"It's fine don't worry about it!" Enoch said too quickly, pitch rising. His face went bright red.

There was a long, awkward silence. "Well I, um, I better go" Enoch muttered.

"Okay." Horace said quietly. Enoch scowled and walked out as fast as he could.

…

The next morning, both Horace and Enoch were yawning at the breakfast table. Neither had been able to get back to sleep, and they were understandably tired. Enoch crossed his arms and glared at his eggs and bacon. He was always grumpy when he was tired.

_Stupid Horace. Stupid nightmares. Stupid Olive and Claire making him move._

Enoch stabbed at his eggs and missed, scraping his fork against the plate with a high pitched screech that made everyone jump.

"Aww, looks like someone's tired." Grinned the air next to Enoch. Enoch opened his mouth to growl a retort back at Millard, but a yawn came out instead. Across the table, Horace yawned in sympathetic response. Bronwyn, who had glanced at Horace, yawned too. Hugh laughed at her but then he was yawning too. Soon everyone was laughing and yawning uncontrollably. Enoch met Horace's eyes across the table and grinned. Horace smiled back and Enoch's heart suddenly did a backflip. He frowned.

_What the Bird?_

…

Later that day, the peculiars were playing out in the sunshine. Enoch was sitting on his usual tree stump, under the shade of a taller tree above, when he noticed Horace sitting alone on the front porch again. His face was wistful and tired as he watched Bronwyn throw a giggling Olive in the air then catch her as she floated down with the weight of her shoes. Hugh walked past, having an animated conversation with the air beside him. Neither Millard or Hugh seemed to notice Horace sitting right next to them, alone, his eyes trailing them longingly as they walked away. Enoch felt a strange twinge of pity in his chest.

He didn't like it.

Then he looked down at the clay in his hands and an idea struck him.

Horace looked up to see Enoch waving his arms. Once he had Horace's attention, Enoch grinned and pointed to the grass. A large clay spider was waddling over to where Bronwyn was standing. Horace watched with mute curiosity as it reached her shoe and began to climb her leg. Bronwyn screamed in fright and stumbled, kicking her leg out.

"Get it off! Get it off!" She cried as it climbed over her dress. As it reached her hair however, it ran out of energy and went stiff and limp. It fell into the grass and once Bronwyn realised what it really was, she turned to the boy sitting among the trees.

"Enoch, you little twat!" She yelled. "That wasn't funny!" Enoch burst out laughing, falling off his tree stump. Horace stifled a smile.

…

Bronwyn wouldn't stop glaring at Enoch at dinner that night, as he gleefully made a whole army of spider babies as he ate and had them crawl over to her, stumbling into her food until she gave up trying to stop them and pushed her plate away with a grunt, much to Horace's amusement.

"Oh don't encourage him, Horace." Millard sighed disdainfully, pulling a clay spider out of his hair and flicking it back at Enoch.

The fun ended for Enoch when one lost spider ended up in Miss Peregrine's drink, and she banned them from the table.

"They're just exploring!" Enoch grumbled as he scooped them up under the headmistress's instruction and pulled their legs off.

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Dont forget to leave a review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! I'm back for another chapter!**

**Thank you all for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy. **

Enoch brushed his teeth and climbed into bed, tired and craving sleep. Unfortunately for him, his two day reprieve from insomnia was the extent of its mercy, and he was back to staring furiously at the ceiling, arms crossed, willing his stupid brain to shut off. After a few hours of trying to sleep, he glanced at the clock. 11:30.

After what felt like another million years of trying, he checked again. 11:45.

"Arrrgghh!" He cried out in frustration, burying his face in his hands.

It was now 3:30 and he was still awake. Enoch was starting to consider bashing his head against the wall until he knocked himself out, when he heard a muffled noise from Horace's room. Enoch stopped to listen.

Crying.

Enoch frowned. Maybe he should just ignore it and it would stop.

Deciding this was the best way to go, Enoch went back to focusing on his wall plan.

Then Horace started mumbling in his sleep, getting louder and louder. Enoch groaned.

"Shut uuupppp." He muttered dejectedly, but he found himself getting out of bed and walking to Horace's door.

Horace was yelling now, crying out for someone in his dream. Enoch shook him.

"Hey! Wake up!" People were going to be woken up soon if Horace continued like this. He thrashed around, reaching desperately at the air. Enoch shook him harder.

"Horace! Just wake up already, would you?"

Then Horace whimpered in his sleep, and Enoch's scowl softened. He sat down on the bed.

"Hey. Hey, wake up." He nudged Horace's shoulder. "Horace. Horace wake up. It's just a nightmare, dummy. Wake up."

Horace's eyes shot open, and he sat up, panicked tears streaming down his face.

"_Finally_." Enoch muttered. Horace buried his face in his hands, shaking and crying softly.

Enoch hesitated, then put his hand on Horace's shoulder. Horace looked at him for a moment, eyes welling with tears, then he let out a sob and buried his face against Enoch.

Enoch rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Horace was still sobbing loudly, and Enoch swallowed, steeling himself.

_It's just to shut him up. _He told himself_. It doesn't mean anything. It's just to make him stop crying._

Awkwardly, and like he'd never had to do it before, Enoch wrapped his arms around Horace. Horace's sobs faltered in surprise. Enoch's heart somersaulted in his chest, and his face grew hot.

Horace opened his mouth to say something, but Enoch cut him off.

"Shut up." He muttered quickly. "Just shut up." He felt embarrassed, and that made him feel mad. At himself or Horace, he wasn't sure.

Eventually, once Horace had gathered himself, he pulled away. Enoch sat awkwardly.

"Are, uh… are you okay?" He asked, cringing at how pathetic he sounded.

"Y-yeah. I should be." Horace replied. Enoch glanced at him and saw that Horace's face was bright red. Enoch quickly looked away and cleared his throat, already standing.

"Right. Well, um. Bye."

"Bye." Horace replied quietly, staring at Enoch with a strange expression. "Thank you."

Happy warmth spread through Enoch's body and his heart did a cartwheel. He was starting to think it should join a gymnastics team.

Enoch opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and scowled, storming out of the room.

…

Enoch slouched out of his room the next morning just as the door next to his opened. Horace stumbled out, eyes hooded and tired. His usually immaculate hair was ruffled and messy, falling into his eyes. It suited him, Enoch decided. Then he scowled at the thought. What was wrong with him?

Horace looked up and noticed Enoch staring before he could look away.

"Tired." Horace mumbled.

"Yeah, well, welcome to my world." Enoch responded with a laugh.

"Oh, please." Horace scoffed, grinning sleepily. "Lack of sleep has been my specialty for decades. Welcome to _my_ world, more like."

Enoch's retort was distorted by a yawn.

"Weak." Horace tutted as he walked past. Enoch could only gape at him in response.

…

Despite his haughty behaviour, however, Horace could barely stay awake during breakfast. Hugh had claimed Enoch's usual spot before he could get there, so Enoch grumpily sat down next to Horace. While everyone talked noisily about the day ahead, Enoch glanced at the other boy, who was bent limply over his food, poking it halfheartedly with his fork. His eyes drifted closed every few seconds, then his head would jerk and his eyes would snap open. Enoch rolled his eyes, but he felt exactly the same. Three nights with little sleep was pretty standard because of his insomnia, but that didn't stop him feeling like crap.

Hugh and Fiona were trying to convince the others to go down to the beach for the day, with a lot of animated hand gestures from Hugh and a few silent nods from Fiona, when Horace suddenly slumped forward in his seat. Enoch's hand shot out to catch him just before he collapsed into his cereal. The others stopped to look at him as Horace opened his eyes blearily. There were a few laughs, and Miss Peregrine bit back a smile. Horace sat up tiredly as the others went back to their conversations, his eyes already half closed again, and yawned. Enoch smirked.

"Weak." He hissed in Horace's ear. Horace flushed and shoved him playfully.

…

The others were finally swayed by Hugh, and they all ran down to the beach for the day. The only ones left were Horace and Enoch, both too exhausted to bother, and Olive, who claimed she hated the beach because her iron shoes got filled with sand. She went sulking off to her room, leaving Enoch to collapse into his bed. But trying to sleep with light pouring in through the pastel blinds was, unsurprisingly, even harder than sleeping at night. After an hour of trying to sleep, Enoch punched his pillow in frustration and jumped up from the bed. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, but as he passed the living room, he heard mumbled cries from the couch. Horace had fallen asleep while reading, his book splayed on the floor, and was in the midst of a nightmare. Enoch leaned over the back of the couch to shake him, but Horace suddenly gasped and lurched upright, grabbing Enoch's wrist and digging his nails in in fright.

"Ow! Let go!" Enoch wrenched his arm out of Horace's grip, scowling and rubbing his wrist.

"Sorry." Horace sighed, picking up his book and straightening his clothes. "That's the third time this morning I've had nightmares. Can I not just _sleep_?" He said dejectedly to no one in particular. Enoch was about to answer, when Olive wandered in.

"What are you two doing?" She asked curiously.

"Go away." Enoch snapped.

"Now that's a bit harsh." Mumbled Horace tiredly.

"_Now that's a bit harsh_." Enoch mocked in a high-pitch voice. "What are you, my mother?"

Horace frowned at him.

"Ohhh, were you two doing something secret?" Olive cooed.

"Of course not!" Enoch scowled. They hadn't been, but the suggestion that they might have been was enough to make Enoch flush. He found himself glancing at Horace.

_What kind of secret thing could they have been doing? Did she honestly think they'd been hugging or-_

Enoch's eyes trailed to Horace's lips almost of their own accord. His heart rate spiked so quickly he had to brace himself against the couch, and he looked away.

"Y-you're just a little brat, Olive!" He spat, storming away to hide his red face, feeling sick.

What the Bird was happening to him?


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! It's me with a new chapter (yay)**

**I hope you like it and please please review- I know it seems kind of pointless every chapter but it means so much to me and motivates me to post more. **

**So thank you to everyone who has already (you're all superstars) and thank you to those who favourited and followed too.**

**Anyway, heres the chapter!**

Enoch avoided Horace for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, hiding away in the basement. He would have stayed there all day if Bronwyn hadn't marched in and pulled him out by his collar.

"What the hell?! Let go of me you oaf!" He flailed against her.

"You're going to apologise to Olive for calling her a brat." Bronwyn insisted, dragging him into the living room where the other peculiars were sitting. They made loud, false conversation or held up books, pretending not to listen, but were all secretly watching the Enoch-Bronwyn showdown that was unfolding. Olive stood in the centre of the room, her arms crossed and her mouth in an exaggerated pout. Bronwyn released Enoch but blocked his path when he tried to run away.

"Right. Now, apologise." Bronwyn said, nodding towards Olive.

"No." Enoch said flatly. "Now, would you please move so I can go back to my solitude?"

"Absolutely." Bronwyn replied. "Once you apologise."

Enoch sighed.

"Fine. I'm sorry." He said, and Bronwyn smiled. "I'm sorry you're a little tattletale!"

Bronwyn's smiled died.

"Now you're apologising for two things." She said, grabbing him as he tried to make another run for it. The peculiars were openly watching now, sniggering. "Quickly please!" Bronwyn raised an eyebrow expectantly. Enoch let out a loud, long-suffering groan.

"_Fine_! Olive I'm _sorry_ I called you a brat and a tattletale. Happy?"

The peculiars broke into mock-applause and Hugh cheered him. Enoch scowled.

"I hate you all!" He whined, marching off.

…

As soon as dinner was over, Enoch headed straight for his room, collapsing into his bed.

"Please please _please_." He muttered to his brain. "Would you just _sleep_?"

He could practically hear it laughing at him.

He lay with his eyes closed for the next few hours, drifting off, then waking up again every five minutes. He wanted to cry.

Someone else began to do it for him.

Enoch recognised the start of one Horace's nightmares immediately. He could hear the quiet crying and mumbling through the wall already, and he opened his eyes.

Waking up Horace seemed like a better use of Enoch's time than battling his sleep-deprived brain, so he climbed from the bed and padded over to the other boy's door. Horace had just begun to writhe and cry out when he reached him. Enoch sat on his bed without hesitation this time and shook him gently as Horace began to yell and sob. He clawed at the air, grabbing at Enoch's arms.

"Hey, hey stop. Wake up." Enoch was surprised by the gentleness in his voice. Hot shame built up in his throat, and he had the urge to shake Horace harder and yell at him to make up for it, but he didn't. Instead, he kept talking gently until Horace's eyes opened and he sat up, tears streaming down his pale face. Enoch hesitated slightly, then wrapped the boy in a hug as he sobbed against him, and Enoch was beginning to like the adrenaline rush it gave him. He was almost disappointed when Horace pulled away, sniffing and wiping at tears and streaming snot with his hands. His hair fell into his face in a ruffled mess. Against his better judgement, Enoch reached forward and brushed aside a lock that had stuck to Horace's quivering lips, then got up from the bed and passed him a handful of tissues. Once he'd cleaned himself up, Horace watched him with a strange but unreadable expression that made Enoch feel like he could see right through him. He shifted uncomfortably.

"So.. um.." Enoch didn't know how to continue. Then a realisation struck him. "What do you dream about?" He blurted. Horace looked at him with surprise. "I mean, the future can't be that horrible, can it? 'Cause if it is then you can count me out."

Horace laughed, but then his face grew sad.

"I rarely see my future or the future of any of the other peculiars in this loop, because they're too close to me. It's like my peculiarity blocks it. But I usually see the future of unknown peculiars and normals. But only if it's an awful future it seems." He sighed.

"But what do you care about the future of some normals or some random peculiar somewhere?" Enoch scoffed.

Horace shot him a surprisingly angry look.

"Because they're people too! And I care especially when I dream as them. Well, not quite _as_ them.." He frowned. "It depends. Sometimes I just get flashes of images and feelings that make no sense, but other times I see people's whole lives. I see them like I'm separate to them, like I'm watching from above, but I _feel_ like I'm them. I feel their pain, their sadness, their fear." He looked at Enoch. "You'd scream too if you could see what I have to see every time I close my eyes."

Chastened, Enoch wouldn't meet Horace's eyes.

"Fine." He said. "Tell me what you saw tonight then."

Horace winced, then, with some difficulty, said,

"85 years ago, a little girl called Amelia discovered that she had the ability to heal people with a touch of her hand. At eight years old, she was brought into a loop, where she's been living ever since." He swallowed. "Sometime in the future, the loop will be raided by Wights. The loop's ymbryne, in selfish terror, will abandon her wards, leaving Amelia to watch as the Wight's brutally murder all of her friends as she hides. When the Wights find her, they will torture her for three days straight to find the whereabouts of her ymbryne, using her own healing hands to keep her alive and stop her aging forward. She knows nothing, and will eventually be tortured to insanity, whereupon they will leave her to rot."

Horace said it matter-of-factly, as if he was reading a script, but his voice was shaking and he quickly looked down to hide his face. Enoch stared at him for a moment. Normally, he would laugh- he loved gruesome stories- but this wasn't some old story from the past; this was a living, breathing peculiar who didn't even know what horrendous things lay in wait for her.

"That's… that's horrible." He admitted. Horace nodded glumly. Then Enoch's face lit up. "But hang on, this is the _future_ we're talking about here. We can do something about it! We can stop it from happening!"

Horace just sighed.

"Enoch, I have no idea when this is going to happen- it could be in a few days or a few decades. I have no idea whose loop she lives in, including when or where. I don't even know the girl's last name, for Bird's sake! Believe me, I've confronted Miss Peregrine about things like this many times, but the Wights are a known threat to all ymbrynes, and without further information she doesn't even know who to send a warning to."

He met Enoch's eyes. "There's nothing we can do. That's the worst thing about my peculiarity- most of the time it just shows me horrible, pointless, terrifying futures I can't do anything about."

Enoch stared at him for a second, trying to think of something clever to say to make Horace feel better.

"That sucks." Was all he could come up with. Horace laughed.

"It sure does." He sighed. Then he glanced at Enoch, a confused smile on his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Enoch quickly looked away, face hot. He hadn't realised he'd been staring.

"I-I… um."

Horace raised an eyebrow.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually cared about my feelings."

Enoch grinned.

"Don't get your hopes up."

He stood up to go, but Horace suddenly grabbed his sleeve.

"Enoch-" Horace started, then suddenly looked embarrassed. He let go. "Actually don't… don't worry about it."

Enoch raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to stay or something?"

"I…" His eyes flicked over Enoch's quickly. "You don't have to if you don't want to…"

Enoch hesitated. Technically he didn't want to. He was unbelievably tired, and he wanted nothing but to collapse onto his bed and _sleep_. But part of him, probably the weaker part of him, figured he'd be a jerk if he walked out on Horace now. Enoch rolled his eyes, sitting next to him, and Horace glanced at him gratefully

They stayed there for the rest of the night, Horace trying valiantly to stay awake but managing somehow to fall asleep sitting up, something Enoch found both impressive and annoying. Enoch himself sat dejectedly wide awake no matter what position he was in, but finally drifted to sleep as the sun came up.

…

When Enoch woke up, he felt like he hadn't slept at all, and his neck and back ached from sleeping sitting up.

Huh, he thought. Turns out he could manage it too. Then Enoch glanced at Horace and realised the boy was slumped with his head on Enoch's shoulder.

Enoch's face went red and he stood up quickly. Horace lost his balance and almost fell onto the floor.

"Hey!" Horace cried indignantly.

"Bye." Enoch grinned as he walked out.

…

Enoch felt like he'd entered a whole new world of exhausted. Four days straight of almost no sleep had left him feeling empty and dazed, rather than just his usual grumpiness. He could barely think straight, could barely keep track of the chatter around him at breakfast. Glancing at Horace next to him, Enoch could see the boy looked as bad as Enoch felt. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles like bruises under them. His face was pale and haggard, and his eyes flicked over the peculiars' faces emotionlessly.

Enoch had a strange, sudden urge to nudge him with his shoulder. Why? He didn't know. Maybe to annoy him. Maybe to stop him looking so depressed. Or maybe he just wanted his attention. For some reason, Enoch liked the way that Horace looked at him.

_That's weird._ He told himself. _That's weird and stupid_.

He stabbed his food with his fork instead.

…

After breakfast, the peculiars all trudged reluctantly to the library for one of Miss Peregrine's weekly peculiar history lessons. All except Millard, who was practically skipping with excitement, Bronwyn laughing and shaking her head at him.

Enoch and Horace were the last two in- both too tired to bother keeping up with the others- so by the time they went to find somewhere to sit among the arm chairs and couches, the only thing left was a tiny two-person couch at the back. They stared at each other warily across it, neither one wanting to sit first.

"Mr O'Connor, Mr Somnusson!" Miss Peregrine called across the room from the front. "Contrary to popular belief, you won't get diseases from simply sharing a couch!"

The boys flushed, aware of the eyes of the others on them now, and quickly sat as Miss Peregrine began her lesson.

Enoch was barely paying attention- he hated peculiar history lessons on a good day, but today he was exhausted. He started nodding off, Miss Peregrine's monotonous voice and the warm library lulling him to sleep, when he felt a sharp elbow jab him in the ribs.

"Ow!" He said a little too loudly. Miss Peregrine stopped and gave him a stern glare. Enoch slid down in his seat. When she turned back to the blackboard, Enoch scowled at Horace.

"What the Bird was that for?" He hissed.

"I was just waking you up." Horace whispered back defensively. "If the Bird catches you sleeping during her lesson you'll never hear the end of it."

"Whatever." Enoch grunted.

He turned back to the board and realised they were learning about the normals' treatment of peculiars in the dark ages, hanging them and burning them as witches and such. Enoch sat up in his seat, suddenly interested. He loved gory stuff. Horace, however, looked a bit sick, as did the other peculiars. Enoch grinned.

His interest soon dissolved however. Miss Peregrine somehow managed to make even the exciting bits boring as sin, and he was back to staring numbly at the headmistress, barely taking notes, when he heard soft breathing to his left.

Horace was passed out next to him, head resting on the arm of the couch, an uncharacteristically peaceful look on his face. Enoch was about to jab him in the ribs as revenge for earlier, but something stopped him. He sat back and let the other boy sleep. If Horace was finally catching some sleep free of his nightmares, then Enoch wasn't about to take that away from him. Instead, he paid extra attention to Miss Peregrine and tried to ignore the strange, fluttery feeling in his chest whenever he glanced at the other boy.

Miss Peregrine was still droning on about some influential peculiar or other, when she noticed Horace sleeping. She rapped her pipe against the board until he flinched and startled awake. Enoch couldn't help the hot spike of anger that shot through him at Miss Peregrine. Could she not tell Horace was exhausted? Did she not care?

"Mr Somnusson! Polite persons do not sleep during lessons." She scolded. Horace looked at her, bleary-eyed and confused.

"Oh... um no, I wasn't asleep Miss Peregrine." He said quickly.

"Well then you'll have no problem reminding everyone what I was just talking about." She looked at him pointedly.

"I.. uhh…" Horace glanced at the board, but couldn't make sense of it without context. There were a few sniggers from the other peculiars. Feeling strangely defensive of Horace, Enoch nudged his leg and passed him a note.

"Uh, um you were talking about Sir Lemolus the Strange, t-the peculiar who started the first syndrigast revolt in London." Horace read. Miss Peregrine pursed her lips. She could tell he hadn't come up with the answer himself, but then her eyes flicked between Horace and Enoch, who was staring her down, and her expression softened.

"Correct. I'm glad you were paying attention Mr Somnusson." She said with a faint smile. Then she turned back to the board and continued her lesson.

"Thanks, Enoch." Horace whispered sincerely. "You just saved me a three-hour lecture."

"No problem." Enoch muttered. He realised his and Horace's legs were still touching, and he quickly pulled away.

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello :)**

**And yes I'm not dead, just dying under homework (*cries millions of tears*)**

**So the next chapter may take a while to post as well (sorry!)**

**But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, and please review!**

When the peculiars were finally released from their lessons, most ran out into the sunshine, glad for their freedom. Horace, however, sat on the porch again, leaning against a wooden pillar. Enoch was going to walk past him, but then he stopped and sat next to him instead.

"Do ever feel like everyone around you is an absolute pinhead?" Enoch muttered.

"What?" Horace laughed tiredly.

"I mean, look at them all." Enoch rolled his eyes, pointing at each playing peculiar in turn. "Pinhead. Pinhead. Pinhead." He pointed at Bronwyn rolling in the grass as Claire and Olive tickled her. "Absolute pinhead." He grumbled.

"Is that because she made you apologise in front of everyone yesterday?" Horace raised an eyebrow. Enoch muttered something under his breath. "Because you kind of deserved it, you know." Horace shrugged. Enoch scowled at him, but then he saw the grin on Horace's face.

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault that Olive can't take constructive criticism." Enoch said with feigned innocence.

"_Right_." Horace said.

"I'm glad you see it my way." Enoch said, standing. "Well, I'm off to the basement. I've got some cows hearts to pickle. Bye." He turned to go, but Horace scrambled to his feet.

"Wait, don't go!" He said too quickly, before realising himself and shutting his mouth. Enoch raised an eyebrow

"Huh. That's the second time in two days you've asked me to stay with you." He rubbed his chin in mock-thoughtfulness. "Now, I'm no detective, but it _almost_ seems like you're lonely." Enoch said.

"I'm not lonely." Horace said defensively.

"Pathetic?"

"No!"

"Desperate for human interaction?"

_"No!"_ Horace scowled. Enoch smirked.

"Come on, I'll show you the wonders of the basement. But I warn you- it ain't pretty. So no complaining about blood on your clothes."

Horace followed him wordlessly with his arms crossed.

…

The basement was cold and filthy, and despite Enoch's nonchalant warning earlier, he suddenly felt embarrassed to have Horace see it. He shoved some jars back in their cupboards and tried to clean up without him noticing. Horace himself stood in the very centre of the room, arms pinned to his sides to avoid getting his suit bloodied. He watched Enoch with curiosity.

"You know, I don't think I've ever actually been down here before." Horace said, looking around curiously. "It's-"

"Disgusting?" Enoch scowled.

"I was going to say peaceful. You can hardly hear anything from above."

Enoch smiled at him. Then he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised you're not having a panic attack about the germs. Or the smell."

"Oh I am." Horace insisted. "On the inside. I'm just too tough to show it."

"Well, I admire your stoicism." Enoch smirked. "You're an inspiration to us all, Horace."

Horace just shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"What do you do down here all day, anyway?" Horace said, stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes tiredly. It was nice and dark in the basement, and Horace was right, it _was_ peaceful. Enoch could feel his own eyes drooping. He shook away exhaustion.

"I dunno. I just kind of make homunculi."

"And?" Horace asked, looking with mild discomfort at the many different types of hearts floating in jars around him.

"And stick hearts in them and make them come to life."

"And?"

"And… I don't know! Make them do stuff?" Enoch said defensively.

"Don't you get bored of that?" Horace asked genuinely.

"I guess." Enoch admitted. "But what else is there to do apart from Raid the Village? And Miss Peregrine hardly ever lets us do that."

"You could play with the others." Horace suggested. Enoch made a disgusted face.

"What, and roll around in the grass like one of those dimwits? No thanks. And besides, you're no better." He said to Horace. "What do _you_ do all day other than sit on the porch and do nothing?"

"Hugh and the others sometimes play football." Horace replied. "I'd like to join them but…" His voice faded out wistfully.

"But what?"

"But I can't risk ruining my suit. Have you seen the mud out there?" Horace said disgustedly, though even Enoch could tell his response was fake.

"Ha!" He said, and Horace startled. "You're just as much a stubborn bastard as I am." Enoch grinned.

"Excuse me?" Horace looked offended.

"You won't ask to join them because you're too afraid of getting your pride wounded if the say no." He said.

"That's…of course that's not the reason!" Horace spluttered, but before he could continue, Enoch had grabbed him by the arm and was marching him up the basement stairs.

"Enoch! What on earth are you doing?"

"You want to play football, then you're playing football." Enoch said adamantly, pulling Horace outside to where the others had already set up a game.

"What? No, Enoch you can't just _march_ over there and-"

Enoch grinned, letting him go.

"Watch me."

Horace watched on in horror as Enoch walked over to the others, who were cheering at Emma's latest goal. Millard, dressed in a referee uniform he'd somehow acquired, was blowing his whistle excitedly. They all stopped and turned to look as Enoch approached them, and a few sighed.

"Here we go." Came a mumble from somewhere in the group.

"Hello fellow peculiars." He grinned. "I've decided to join you."

"Yeah, no, Enoch." Hugh shook his head. "Every time you play you just ruin it for everyone."

"Great!" Enoch said. "So which team am I on?"

"Look, Enoch, not to be rude, but with you playing the teams will be uneven." Bronwyn said worriedly.

"Good thing I brought another player then, isn't it?" Enoch smirked. The others looked confused, then seemed to suddenly notice Horace, who stood awkwardly behind Enoch.

"Oh...uh, hi Horace." Hugh frowned

Horace took a deep breath, then puffed out his chest and held his head up high.

"Morning." He greeted. "I'll be on Miss Bruntley's team, and Enoch can be on Emma's. Is that settled?"

"I guess?"

"Excellent! Which direction are we playing?"

…

Despite their hesitation earlier, the peculiars soon warmed up to Horace playing. He was on a team consisting of Claire, Bronwyn and Hugh, and despite their skill and extra muscle, they were losing badly to Emma's team of Olive and Fiona (and now Enoch), mostly because Hugh couldn't concentrate whenever Fiona had the ball, and Bronwyn kept going easy on Olive and letting her score. Once Enoch and Horace joined, however, Hugh seemed to forget all about his wide eyed gaping at Fiona, and focussed all his energy on targeting Enoch, much to the boy's annoyance.

"Would you bugger off!" Enoch panted as he ran, dribbling the ball away from Hugh, who was knocking him with his shoulder and doing his best to trip Enoch over. Enoch stumbled and Hugh stole the ball from him, kicking it to Horace who grinned wildly as he ran with it, weaving around Olive and smirking back at her bewildered face. But that meant he wasn't looking where he was going and he barrelled right into Emma, falling to the ground with the wind knocked out of him as she smirked and kicked the ball in the other direction.

"Thanks." She grinned. Horace groaned.

Hugh helped him up and Horace hurriedly dusted grass of his clothes as Claire faced off against Emma, her backmouth growling. Emma easily sidestepped the tiny girl and booted the ball to Olive. Olive kicked for goal, her cocky grin showing she expected the ball to go in, but Bronwyn, their goalie, had a determined expression on her face now and she dived to catch it.

A cheer went up through Horace's team at the save, and Millard blew his whistle, cheering with them. He wasn't a very impartial umpire. Olive, meanwhile, had a bewildered look on her face.

"Sorry little Magpie." Bronwyn laughed.

After that, everyone had their game faces on. Horace's team scored twice more, as did Enoch's.

Horace lost track of the number of times he was tackled (mostly by Enoch), and surprisingly, he didn't seem to mind that his clothes were getting covered in mud and grass stains.

Horace's shirt was partially untucked and filthy, and his monocle had long since fallen into the grass, but the beaming smile on his face as he scored his first goal lit Enoch up from the inside.

Enoch found himself running up to him and clapping him on the back with the rest of Horace's team, until Emma accused him of consorting with the enemy and dragged him away.

The peculiars played well into the afternoon, only stopping for lunch and occasional water breaks, and Enoch couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. Horace was passed the ball, and he started dribbling toward the goal. Enoch grinned and sprinted towards him, stealing the ball out from under him with a sliding tackle. Horace lost his balance and dragged Enoch down with him, and they ended up lying on top of each other in the grass. Enoch stared down at Horace, their faces so close together that Enoch could feel Horace's warm, panting breath. Enoch flushed, mortified, and expected Horace to react the the same way, but the other boy just stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing. He rolled Enoch off of him and stood, holding his hand to help him up.

"Idiot." Horace grinned, rolling his eyes. Enoch grinned back, but he noticed that Horace was blushing too.

…

They finally headed inside as the sun began to set, and Enoch realised that Horace was sticking close to him. Enoch opened his mouth to say something to him, but Hugh suddenly wedged himself between them and clapped a hand on Horace's shoulder.

"Good job today, mate." He grinned at Horace. "You didn't tell me you were good at football!" Horace laughed bashfully, and for some reason, Enoch felt a hot spike of jealousy.

"I didn't think I was." Horace said.

"Yeah well, come play anytime you like." Hugh shrugged and Horace gave him a bright smile. Enoch scowled, the strange jealousy in him growing. Hugh suddenly realised Enoch was there, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"And uh… I guess you too, Enoch." He sighed. "Just try not to be a pain in the ass."

Enoch grumbled in response as Hugh jogged away to catch up with Fiona. Then he scowled and shoved Horace. He wasn't sure why he'd done it, but it made him feel better. Horace stumbled.

"Hey! What was that for?" Horace laughed, a confused smile on his face. Thankfully, he thought Enoch was just messing around. Enoch's scowl lessened.

_For smiling like that at someone other than me_. He thought, but he could hardly admit that he was jealous- that was just weird, and Horace would probably get creeped out if Enoch told him.

"For beating me at football." He lied, grinning. Well half-lied. He was pretty miffed at that too.

"Ha! And you thought I'd be bad at it." Horace smirked. Enoch snorted, bumping him with his shoulder.

"I did not! I never said that."

"You thought it." Horace grinned.

"Oh please, I was the original Horace supporter! Don't try to desert me now you're all famous. Is it too late for an autograph?"

Horace laughed, then, looking around to make sure no one was watching, pushed Enoch around the corner and out of view.

"What-" Enoch started, but then Horace tackled him in a hug. Enoch's heart hammered in his chest as he hugged Horace back, and he decided that he liked the way it felt.

"Thank you." Horace said quietly. "Today was so much fun, and I never would have joined in if it wasn't for you." Enoch's mouth opened but no sound came out. He couldn't seem to form words.

Horace pulled away and beamed at him. Enoch found himself staring at Horace's lips again, and his face grew hot.

"Enoch! Horace!" Came Olive's voice from around the corner. "Are you two still outside?"

Enoch and Horace quickly leapt apart, blushing furiously as she rounded the corner. "Supper's ready-"

She saw them and her brow furrowed. "Are you two _sure_ you aren't doing anything secret?" She asked, and Enoch spluttered.

"Nothing secret, just discussing goal-scoring techniques." Horace assured her smoothly, and Enoch smiled at how confident he sounded. Horace steered her towards the dining room, and the three of them walked in together. Enoch was starving- starving and _tired_. He'd almost forgotten his exhaustion with all the excitement of the day, but now that he was coming down off an adrenaline high, he felt worse than ever. He couldn't wait to shovel food into his mouth as fast as he could then collapse onto his bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back! Super short chapter so sorry. But I guess something is better than nothing? Anyway, enjoy and dont forget to review!**

For the first time in days, Enoch fell asleep instantly. He slept for hours and hours, a luxury he'd been so deprived of lately that he felt confused at how well rested he felt when he woke in the middle of the night. He would have gone back to sleep, but something had caused him to wake up. He listened, and sure enough, there were the quiet sobs. He sighed. Did Horace's nightmares never let up? All the same, he was up and at Horace's door before he knew it.

When he first walked in, Enoch stopped, confused. Horace's bed was empty, and he couldn't see him anywhere. Then he heard the sobbing again and realised that Horace was curled in the far corner of the room. He was clearly asleep but his eyes were open, and he sat with his knees brought up to his chest in fear, as if he was cowering from some invisible force. Enoch sighed.

"What are you doing there?" He muttered to himself, kneeling in front of him.

"No no no no no." Horace mumbled, flinching. "No no stop."

"It's okay." Enoch said. "Wake up, Horace, it's just a nightmare. Everything's fine."

Horace shuddered and covered his face with his hands.

"Don't hurt me."

Enoch blinked.

"I'm not going to-"

"Stop! Please! Don't hurt me!" Enoch quickly shook him awake and Horace's eyes flew open. "Don't-! …Oh…"

Horace seemed to register Enoch, then glanced around the room in confusion.

"Why am I-?" He frowned, still shaking a little.

"On the ground? I dunno. But you were having a nightmare so I woke you up."

"Oh…" Horace said quietly. Then he hesitated. "…Sorry." His shoulders were shaking and he sniffed, wiping his eyes roughly.

"It's fine." Enoch shrugged. He gave Horace a worried glance. "You okay?"

"I-I'm alright." Horace said, but he was fighting tears.

Enoch had no idea what the hell his brain was doing, but he suddenly leaned forward and hugged Horace fiercely.

Horace seemed just as surprised as Enoch was, but he hugged him back as Enoch reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair.

Enoch felt sick and strange. He didn't understand what had possessed him to do that, but he didn't want to stop. Horace didn't seem to mind either. He wasn't crying anymore, but he didn't seem like he wanted to pull away, and Enoch was strangely glad for it. Something about holding Horace like this, with his warm body pressed against Enoch's, was weirdly comforting.

Horace shifted uncomfortably and Enoch immediately let him go.

_He thinks you're weird. He thinks you're weird for hugging him. You shouldn't have done that._

"I'm sorry that was dumb, I-" Enoch started, but Horace rolled his eyes and pulled him towards the bed.

"The ground was just cold, dummy." He laughed.

"Oh." Enoch grinned, feeling stupid.

He sat down next to Horace on the mattress, leaning back against the wall.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and Enoch was suddenly conscious of Horace's hand next to his. He glanced down as Horace reached out to trail his fingers hesitantly over Enoch's. Enoch's heart leapt into his throat and he searched Horace's face with confusion. Horace gave him a coy smile.

"You know, you pretend you're this big tough guy," Horace said, "but really you're just a softie."

"Y-yeah?" Enoch felt his face growing hot.

"Mhmm."

"Yeah, well…" Enoch didn't know what to say to that.

Horace laughed, looking at him with big, trusting eyes and smiling in a way that filled Enoch with happy warmth. He couldn't help but smile back.

Enoch laced his fingers with Horace's, feeling confused and sick and happy. Their faces were close now- as close as they had been in the grass earlier, and normally Enoch hated people in his personal space, but for some reason he didn't want to pull away. In fact, he had the strange urge to lean closer and close the gap between them completely. Enoch leaned forwards and Horace did the same, their lips centimetres apart, sharing the same breath, Enoch's heart beating out of his chest- when there was a knock at the door.

They leapt apart, wide eyed and blushing, as the door handle turned. Miss Peregrine stood in the doorway, taking in the scene as Enoch shifted away and refused to look at Horace.

"Evening, Mr Somnusson. I thought I heard crying earlier, and I was just coming to make sure you were alright."

She raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "But it appears that Mr O'Connor has it covered."

Horace gaped at her.

"Um, y-yeah, I'm fine now thanks." He said, stumbling over the words.

"Excellent! Well, off to bed then, you two." She said briskly.

When Enoch didn't move, she cleared her throat. _"Mr O'Connor_. Come now. It's far past your bedtime." He stood and she steered him hurriedly out the door by his shoulders.

She'd claimed that she was concerned about Horace, but it seemed to Enoch like she was more concerned about what Horace might be _doing_. Enoch frowned from his bed as Miss Peregrine walked away. She couldn't know, could she? But then again, he swore the woman had a sixth sense for trouble.

"Old prude." He muttered, switching off his lamp. But then he smiled as he stared at the ceiling.

All he could think about was Horace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everyone! Thank you so so much for all the lovely reviews. They made me smile :)**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

Enoch woke up with a strange, sick excitement in his stomach. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked to Horace's door. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to see him, but he raised his fist to knock anyway- then hesitated. Enoch frowned. He tried to knock again, but found he couldn't make himself do it. It wasn't like him to get freaked out like this, but for some reason he couldn't work up the courage.

Suddenly the door handle turned and Enoch cursed, sprinting back to his room and shutting the door just as Horace stepped out onto the landing. Enoch held his breath as Horace walked past and down the stairs. Once his footsteps had receded, Enoch breathed in relief and slid down the door to the ground.

He knew he'd have to face Horace eventually, but he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"_So you know that thing that happened between us last night? Pretty weird, huh?"_

Enoch shook the thought out of his head. He'd never felt so confused in his life.

He felt happy and sick and angry and embarrassed and excited and terrified.

Did he like Horace? Of course not!

…Maybe?

And did that mean Horace liked him? He thought about it, how close they'd become lately, how Horace smiled at him when he saw him, which had to be a first in Enoch's life. So… yes?

_No_. He thought. _Stop creating something that isn't there. You're just friends._

He nodded. Okay, so just friends, that made sense. Horace wouldn't smile at him like that, or hang around him if they weren't friends right?

So maybe last night didn't mean anything at all. Maybe he was overthinking it- nothing had really happened, after all. Their faces were close together, then Miss Peregrine came in. Simple as that. They were sleep deprived and not thinking straight, and a weird moment had passed between them. Horace had probably thought nothing of it. He'd probably forgotten already.

Still, Enoch thought about how close they'd been, how Horace's hand had been intertwined with his, and he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Miss Peregrine hadn't walked in.

_You're just friends. Friends do stuff like that. You're just friends._

He repeated it to himself as he walked down the stairs to breakfast.

_You're just friends. Just friends. Just friends._

He sat down at the table and ate his breakfast in silence while the peculiars chattered around him. He could sense Horace staring at him from across the table, trying to get his attention. Enoch looked up.

_Just friends. Just fr- oh God._

Enoch's heart tried to jump out of his chest the second he made eye contact with Horace, and he quickly forced his eyes down to his plate before the other boy could say anything.

_Okay. You can do this. Just be normal._

Enoch sneaked a glance and found that Horace was still watching him.

_Crap_.

He quickly looked away. The way his heart was racing was definitely not helping with his 'just friends' theory.

…

Enoch avoided eye contact with Horace for the rest of breakfast and ignored him when he offered to take Enoch's plate as they were packing up. When Horace called after him as he walked down to the basement, Enoch pretended not to hear him.

As long as Enoch didn't look at or think about Horace, he was fine. Okay, so ignore him for eternity in order to stay friends. That sounded sustainable. _Not_.

But it was his best option unless he wanted to admit what his racing heart and butterflies where trying to tell him.

Enoch sighed, deciding to distract himself by making a giant homunculus, and was surprised to see it actually work. Well, the distraction part, at least. The homunculus was a horror never to be spoken of.

…

After a while, Enoch got bored and cold from being in the basement, so climbed up to his room to flop onto his bed. He'd only just closed his eyes when there was a knock at his door. Enoch groaned.

"Go away." He snapped.

The person knocked again.

"I said go away!"

There was silence for a few seconds, then a sudden barrage of non-stop knocks.

"Oh for the love of God!" He groaned. "Can no one leave me in peace?"

Enoch marched over to the door and threw it open to a frowning Horace, his fist raised to knock again.

"Enoch-" He started.

"Nope." Enoch deadpanned.

Enoch tried to shut the door in his face, but Horace stuck his foot out before it could close.

"Oww..." He whimpered.

Enoch opened the door enough for Horace to gingerly pull his foot out, but then he used that as an opportunity to push himself into the room.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Enoch scowled.

"I'm coming to see if you're okay."

"I'm fine." Enoch snapped. He started shoving Horace towards the door. "Okay bye, you can leave now."

"What? No Enoch stop-" Horace shrugged him off. "Look, are…are you mad at me?"

Enoch frowned, confused.

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Because you're avoiding me."

_Oh. Oops._

"I'm not." Enoch said quickly.

"You're not?

"No."

"But I called your name and-"

"I didn't hear you." Enoch said too quickly. Horace was silent for a moment, looking at him sceptically.

"Enoch, if you're mad at me, or I've done something wrong, just tell me, okay? And I'll back off."

"Oh for Bird's sake! I'm not mad at you, okay?" Enoch spat defensively.

"Well it sure feels like you are!" Horace cried.

Enoch blinked in surprise, then scowled.

"That's it, now you're definitely leaving." He growled. Horace looked hurt.

"Enoch-"

"No." Enoch said flatly, steering him towards the door.

"Enoch!"

"No. Now get out."

"Would you just stop!" Horace cried. Enoch let him go, turning away with his arms crossed. There was a long silence. Neither of them moved. Eventually Horace sighed.

"I'll just go…" He muttered, but as he turned Enoch found himself grabbing his wrist.

"No don't go." He said quickly. "Look…I'm not mad at you, okay? Seriously, it's not you."

_I just think you're irrationally cute and that's weird._

Enoch let him go, expecting him to walk out anyway, but to his surprise, Horace just let out a relieved laugh.

"Thank the Bird." He sighed. "I was worried that this was about… you know about last night and I don't know, that I'd freaked you out or something and-" He was talking fast and nervous, stumbling over words and fumbling with his tie worriedly, but Enoch had stopped listening at 'last night.'

Horace had acknowledged it. So it wasn't just him. But they were just friends right? They had to be.

Enoch was vaguely aware of Horace still rambling.

"A-and I know it sounds stupid but what I'm trying to say is…" Horace's voice suddenly faded out as he glanced down and realised his tie was completely tangled. "Oh."

Enoch couldn't help but laugh. Horace was even more uncomfortable than he was.

"God, you're an idiot." He grinned, walking over to Horace and starting to fix his tie for him. Horace grinned sheepishly.

"Honestly you're probably better off leaving it." He rolled his eyes, gesturing down at the wrinkled, grass-stained white dress shirt he was wearing. "Yesterday's football has completely destroyed the rest of my clothes anyway."

Enoch glanced at him.

"You look fine."

_You look better than fine._

Horace blushed a little and jabbed him in the side.

"Maybe by your standards."

"Hey! I have plenty of fashion sense, thank you very much."

Horace raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down.

"Oh I don't doubt it- I've heard the homeless love to get clothing inspiration from you."

Enoch snorted, shoving him.

"You swine!" He grinned. "I've fixed your tie for you, so you're welcome."

"Thank you." Horace rolled his eyes, glancing down to assess the damage. "It's far too short by the way. I give you a five out of ten."

"Oh come on, that's at least a seven." Enoch said, stepping towards him.

"Six then. A compromise." Horace grinned, closing the distance. Enoch was suddenly conscious of how close they were, and he looked away, face hot.

When Enoch risked a glance back, he realised that Horace was staring at him with a small smile on his face. He noticed Horace's eyes flick quickly to the lower half of his face, then back up to his eyes.

"God you're gorgeous." Horace suddenly mumbled.

Enoch made a choking sound in his throat, going red.

"Wha-What?"

Horace's eyes widened as he realised himself and he clapped his hands over his mouth.

"Nothing!" He said quickly.

"No, I heard you. You said-"

"No I didn't!" He cried. "You must have imagined it!"

"Horace-"

"Bye!" Horace hurried out of the room, face bright red. Enoch just stood in stunned silence, his mind reeling.

Then a small smile spread across his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi all! Sorry this took so long to upload- I've been away up North with no reception.**

**Anyway, this is the last chapter! Eek!**

**I really hope you enjoy :)**

Enoch sat in his room, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. Horace had called him gorgeous.

He could picture him saying it, they way Horace had looked at him, the smile on his face.

_"God you're gorgeous."_

Enoch blushed and buried his face in his hands, grinning uncontrollably.

He got up and walked over to the mirror, looking at himself. He frowned, tilting his head slightly.

"…Gorgeous." He mumbled, trying the word out for himself. "You're gorgeous."

He stared at his reflection doubtfully, trying to work out what Horace had seen in him, but of course there was nothing to see. He had no idea what Horace was talking about.

"This is stupid." Enoch muttered, turning away from the mirror.

But it didn't matter what Enoch thought because Horace had said it. And meant it, as far as Enoch could tell. He grinned and flopped back onto his bed.

Horace Somnusson thought he was gorgeous. Horace who made him laugh and who actually seemed to care about him and whose smile was the cutest thing he'd ever seen and-

Enoch's face went slack.

_I… I like him_. He realised.

His elation drained out of him.

_He's a boy_. He thought. _He's a boy and I like him._

_Oh God._

What would the others think? What would Miss Peregrine think?

And if he liked Horace, if he liked a boy, that made him…

No.

No, he didn't like Horace. He couldn't. Obviously he was just confused, or he'd been tricked somehow. He'd never like boys before, barely even noticed Horace before.

Maybe he liked him because Enoch, as much as he hated to admit it, was lonely, and he'd wanted to be close to someone. Or maybe his brain had been subconsciously letting him ignore Horace's gender, or think of him as a girl, and that's why. Maybe it was because Horace was so feminine that he'd tricked Enoch into liking him.

But Enoch could see his face whenever he closed his eyes, could smell Horace's cologne on his clothes from all the times they'd hugged, and realised that Horace was undoubtedly a boy, and that Enoch undoubtedly had feelings for him, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. Even his stupid brain knew it.

Enoch cursed, head falling into his hands. So much for just friends.

…

_Just go talk to him. It's not that hard._

Enoch paced his room, trying to think of what to say to Horace, but his mind was blank.

"You know what? Bugger it." He muttered eventually. Enoch jumped up from his bed and marched out of his room to find Horace. He'd improvise something.

But Enoch's impulse confidence was short lived. After twenty minutes of searching the entire house and garden, even turning down an invitation to play football with the others again, Enoch was clueless.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he should just give up. He'd probably say something dumb anyway.

Enoch was about to give up and go back to his room when a grey cap floated over to him.

"What's wrong with you?" Millard asked.

"Nothing." Enoch muttered.

"Are you sure?" Millard asked. "You look… I don't even know. Perplexed? Angry? Unhappy, whatever the case."

"Fine." Enoch relented. "Have you seen Horace? I've been looking for ages but he's disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Hardly." Millard scoffed. "I saw him in the library just before."

"The _library_? The hell is he in there for?" Enoch frowned.

"Well, we're not _all_ illiterate here, believe it or not." Millard sighed, and Enoch scowled at him. He walked off to find Horace.

…

As promised, Horace was curled on a sofa in the library, reading a book. Enoch swallowed hard and walked over to him, stopping to stand at the opposite end of the couch.

"Hi." Enoch said forcefully.

Horace looked up from his book and his eyes widened. He immediately sat up straighter.

"Enoch! Hi." He said quickly.

There was a brief silence. Horace stared at Enoch. Enoch stared back, panicking.

"Look, about earlier, I-" Enoch started, but then he went silent, distracted by the open book in Horace's lap. "Wait hang on. Is that book… in Spanish?"

He wasn't the best reader, but even he could tell that none of the worlds were English.

Horace glanced down and smirked.

"French, actually. But you know, close enough." He laughed, clearly relieved for the change in subject. Enoch stared at him in disbelief.

"You speak _French_?"

"Yes, I do."

"Since when?"

"Since I was a child. My mother was born in France but moved to England when she married my father. She insisted I learn to speak it." He shrugged. "We spent a few years switching between estates in London and Paris as my father set up his business, so yes- many god-awful hours a day learning it."

"But… okay wow that's cool." Enoch admitted, flopping down next to Horace, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. Horace looked surprised.

"You think so?"

"Uh, _yes_. I mean, I can barely read _English_ for Bird's sake, and you're here reading a book in French?"

Horace laughed at his excitement.

"It's really not that-"

"Wait, say something in French." Enoch cut him off, grinning.

"What?"

"Say something in French." Enoch pushed.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno. Something." Enoch shrugged.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Horace Somnusson."

"What does that mean?"

"Hello, my name is Horace Somnusson."

Enoch scoffed.

"But that's easy. I could have bloody said that! Say something else."

"Like what, Enoch?"

"Well I don't know! Anything. Just ramble or something." Enoch rolled his eyes. "I just want to hear how French sounds."

Horace thought for a moment, then spoke.

"Je m'appelle Horace Somnusson. J'ai quatre-vingts ans et j'ai des rêves prophétiques."

_("My name is Horace Somnusson. I am eighty years old and I have prophetic dreams.")_

He hesitated and then glanced at Enoch.

"J'ai le béguin pour vous depuis vingt ans, mais je ne savais pas comment vous le dire."

_("I've had a crush on you for twenty years, but I didn't know how to tell you.")_

Why the hell was Enoch blushing? He had no idea what Horace was saying- he could just be reciting a grocery list, for Bird's sake! And yet Enoch's face was hot. No, he did not find Horace speaking French cute. Absolutely not. Nope nope nope nope…

Horace was grinning at him now.

"Tu es adorable quand tu rougis et tu n'as aucune idée de combien je veux t'embrasser en ce moment."

_("You're adorable when you blush, and you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.")_

They were both silent, staring at each other. Horace smiled at him and Enoch grinned back sheepishly. Horace leaned closer to him and their hands brushed.

"Uh… so you do know I have no idea what you just said, right?" Enoch suddenly blurted.

Horace blinked at him in surprise then burst out laughing, rolling his eyes.

"My God, Enoch. You really know how to ruin a moment don't you?" He said.

"Well, what did you say?" Enoch grinned. Horace shook his head.

"You'll never know."

"What? That's not fair!" He laughed.

"Well… I _could_ tell you." Horace considered, smirking. "But then I'd have to kiss you."

Enoch laughed, but then his eyes widened.

"Wait um Horace… don't you mean kill you?" He asked, trying to stop the heat rising up his cheeks.

Horace just grinned, tracing his fingers over Enoch's palm.

"Something like that."

Enoch stared at him in awe as Horace reached out hesitantly to touch his cheek, a small smile on his face. Enoch found himself leaning towards Horace, shifting slightly to face him better, and Horace did the same.

They were close now, both of them blushing and grinning like idiots. Horace leaned closer, gently tilting Enoch's chin up, staring down at his lips. Enoch's heart leapt into his throat and he stumbled over words.

"Horace, I-"

Then Horace kissed him, and fireworks went off inside Enoch's body. He was vaguely aware of his hands fluttering up to Horace's face, then through his hair as he smiled against the other boy's lips.

The kiss was sweet and short and a little clumsy, and it was the best thing Enoch had ever felt. They pulled apart, breathing heavily and grinning shyly at each other. Enoch pressed his forehead to Horace's and probably would have kissed him again if he hadn't heard creaking footsteps in the corridor outside the door. He and Horace fumbled apart, wide eyed and panicked. Enoch shoved Horace away from him, his face red, and stumbled to his feet.

Horace was already running.

…

Enoch flopped onto his bed and beamed into his pillow. He was filled with so much adrenaline and endorphins he felt like he could sprint a marathon.

Horace had kissed him! _Him!_ And Enoch had kissed him back.

"Oh my God." He laughed. "Oh my God."

He couldn't keep the smile off his face.

He whirled out of his room, grinning like an idiot. The sky was a bright, clear blue. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and gave the wooden house a warm glow. Had it always done that? How had he never noticed it before?

Enoch looked up to see Bronwyn walking past and he beamed at her. She smiled back.

"Someone's in a good mood." She gave a bewildered laugh, shaking her head at him.

Enoch practically skipped down the stairs. He was walking on air.

Enoch flopped down at the table for lunch, piled his plate with food and grinned at Horace across the table. Horace greeted him with a shy, blushing smile.

"So," Enoch said happily to everyone at the table. "What are we doing with the rest of today?"

Millard spluttered and Hugh almost choked on his sandwich.

"Umm.. are you feeling okay, Enoch?" Emma smirked. "Normally you don't give a wit about what we're doing."

"I distinctly remember you using the words 'dimwitted' and 'pathetic' to describe anything that we find fun." Millard said. Enoch shrugged.

"I've had a change of heart." He said, glancing at Horace.

"We could play football again." Horace said to the group hopefully, looking up at the others, but there were several groans.

"We already did that today." Claire whined.

"What about the beach?" Emma suggested.

"Do we have to?" Olive sighed.

"It's not our fault you hate the beach, Olive." Hugh frowned.

"No, she's right." Millard said. "How about another peculiar history lesson?"

"No!"

Enoch watched Horace as the others bickered. He looked tired and bedraggled, but there was a happy light in his eyes now, and when he looked up at Enoch, his eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. Enoch's previous doubt melted away, and he felt giddy and happy for the first time in a while.

So what if Horace was a boy? At this point, Enoch could not care less.

**...The End. ****(Of this fic, anyway)**

**Unfortunately that's it for this fanfiction, but dont worry, I'm working on another for mphfpc! :) (It may take a while so bear with me)**

**Before I go I'd like to say thank you thank you thank you thank you! to you all for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following, and just generally supporting this fic. It means so much to me that people enjoy my writing. So yeah, thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day :)**


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